


Reset

by extremesoft



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: (or at least they'll have it coming here i promise), Ambiguous Relationships, Anal Sex, Banter, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, Fingering, Jealousy, Light D/s undertones, M/M, PWP, Rimming, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, it's 3 and 33 and 3+33+? back at it again, they just had it coming didn't they
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 23:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21169964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extremesoft/pseuds/extremesoft
Summary: Max can’t help falling over the presumed edge of reason one day, then, again finding himself watching and re-watching Daniel’s Insta story with sheer annoyance at how desirable Daniel looks billowing in him, anger at how it’s some fucking Michael bloke who gets to wring that knackered, blissful look out of Daniel, smiling on the background with the flirty confidence of someone whoknowsthey’re going to be rewarded with a nice, raw fuck later on. Perhaps in the shower, or on top of the weight bench, wonder which one of them it is that usually gets to top-





	Reset

**Author's Note:**

> I am very much descending into insanity - in more ways than one, but this is certainly one of them. I honestly never, ever thought I'd write anything like this, and I did jest to a dear a few _months_ ago about whether they would write this particular pairing/trio-ing/whatever and when; but then I myself did like Max does here and stumbled upon Daniel and Michael's stupid, sweaty, sexy workout material. And then I sort of stooped into... this, instead of properly concentrating on my job or studies. (I mean come on, if those guys aren't fucking, I don't know who is. But then again, Maxiel forever. So. Compromises are key.)
> 
> (Statistics: this is the first time I write three guys and also rimming. Great!)
> 
> No warnings this time, I think? Apart from idiocy, italics and a reasonable amount of bodily fluids. Basically this is, like, just utter horny mayhem and the "plot" is thinner than that of the cooking recipe for Dan's mashed avo toast, be prepared. Even though I can't really think of anything to warn about, I will however give credit whenever it's due - they said they don't own CSS, but I wouldn't have come across the art of how to format those messages without singlemalter and a fic of theirs called "love is a trip" (highly recommended, exquisite work!), so this is to warmly thank them and to make it perfectly clear that I certainly didn't have the brains to create that all by myself :') The links to the tutorials can be found in the notes at the end.
> 
> Without further ado, I give you, uh, the text below. As always, I sincerely hope you all enjoy reading my chaotic kinky bullshit - let me know in any way if you do! ❤️

It’s not hard for Max to feel like he’s been successfully and completely replaced despite his occasional better knowledge. Hell, how could he feel like anything else when he checks his Instagram and for the umpteenth time runs right into the exceedingly sweaty evidence of the two muscular, brown-eyed jackasses having worked out, not only more than titillating enough to instantly pique the dirtier end of imaginations but also filled with laughs and jests and a sense of _warmth_ Max has to do his very best to avoid interpreting at any level? Without success, naturally; and he frequently scolds himself for his stupid adolescent neediness whenever he stumbles upon it and fails to exist otherwise just as frequently.

They radiate the same way, Daniel and Michael. They have the same sun-caressed skin and the same tempting, bottomless eyes full of magnetic sense of liveliness that only seems to multiply whenever they share the same space. They’re fucking, that’s for sure, Max thinks and gets caught up in this weird, burning sensation he makes sure not to call jealousy yet knows - deep, deep down - can’t really be anything else.

Max can’t help falling over the presumed edge of reason one day, then, again finding himself watching and re-watching Daniel’s Insta story with sheer annoyance at how desirable Daniel looks billowing in him, anger at how it’s some fucking Michael bloke who gets to wring that knackered, blissful look out of Daniel, smiling on the background with the flirty confidence of someone who _knows_ they’re going to be rewarded with a nice, raw fuck later on. Perhaps in the shower, or on top of the weight bench, wonder which one of them it is that usually gets to top-

Max bites his lip, as though trying to derail his uncontrollably speeding train of thought. He feels like stinging Daniel with a long needle. Something like _hey, remember me? I’m still here_. (What is it with him, it’s not exactly like he’s being the most committed person on the planet either-)

Okay, he’s not going to go there again, not on top of this. He weighs the potential consequences no further and sends the message just out of spite, as though trying to spit the persistent bitter taste from the back of his throat into written words.

**MV: **Your training material is really something to jerk off to nowadays :) :)   
  
**MV: **Nice going mate  
  


He had pictured switching the phone quickly off and tossing it somewhere on his bed like a real proper moping teenager - what could possibly be a better way of coping with having sent something slightly prickly you vaguely start to wish you hadn’t right after - but the messages instantly get marked read and it’s too late to make a run for it then. Daniel types for a few seconds only and Max if helpless to do anything but follow and wait for the verdict of the jury.

**DR: **aw mate, I’m flattered. Wanna join us? <3   
  


_Jesus, what?_

It must be a joke, and a bloody bad one too. Max is so stunned by the infuriating shamelessness of Daniel’s answer he doesn’t even register his own mouth falling open. He short-circuits for an odd moment, then sends back a single middle finger emoji and discards the phone as previously planned, trying his hardest to ignore the mild feeling of irritation-diluted (and heavily illicit) interest stirring somewhere in his darker depths. Later on he notices that Daniel has responded with three aubergines, like responsible, mature people should always respond; and that marks the end of the conversation as Max can’t really think of anything snarky to stick the bastard with any longer. He shakes his head, simply leaves the aubergines seen and read and settles for boiling alive on the inside.

Max finds his head being even more determined to regularly go into overdrive after that, however. The moment he reads the cursed message he starts seeing flashes of the scene before his eyes like some kind of fucked up and definitely raunchy apparitions, mirages hanging upside down above the desert that is his brain. Michael is attractive, after all, in the same smouldering way Daniel is attractive; and Max just can’t prevent it, falling into the trap of injecting himself into the post-workout session fuck sessions he has grudgingly pictured happening after every goddamned time Daniel (or Michael) has first seen fit to boast about how incredibly fun they’re having while trying to murder Daniel using exercise as the weapon.

He likes to think he'd have the decency to stop if the pair of them hadn't painted such a pretty portrait on the canvas of his mind despite it being painful to think of; it knots up his innards to imagine other hands on Daniel than his yet he's powerless before it. Michael's stubble scraping the side of Daniel's neck as he steps to kiss him from behind and grabs his waist. The sharp, dark ink on Daniel’s thigh contrasting the soft silk of Michael’s hand trailing the tattoos. Sweat making Daniel’s skin shimmer and weeping from his unruly hair, Michael’s fingers splaying on his hips, abyssal eyes meeting similar ones, back curving with the ache of the first relentless thrust-

(The first time Max woke up hard to a more than vivid dream of them and got himself off to it he _was_ ashamed of himself.)

It’s been days. The evening has darkened quickly and Max returns to his hotel from an insipid briefing, weary to the bone with both the heat outside and the long hours behind him. He checks his messages while idly towing himself through the door and sharpens so quickly it almost twinges his skin when he sees one of them is from Daniel. Of course. He isn’t quite sure what it is that causes his legs to lurch so forcefully in the end. Could simply be the Singapore scorch and humidity, could be low blood sugar, could be the curious mixture of uncertainty, irritation and yearning that claws right through him without permission.

**DR: **Wanna hang out?  
  


A part of Max has already shot out of the door. A part of him has paralyzed to place. It’s not a particularly suggestive message in any way - usually Daniel is in fact hilariously ill-mannered when really set on getting it on. Max can’t help the nagging feeling he’s been in fact asked to merely compensate something, and he feels oddly cheap. He shouldn’t assume anything. He _can’t_ assume anything. He bites his lip, scratches the back of his head, stare fixed on the phone screen. He then decides to try and drag it out just a tad. Just to test the waters.

**MV: **It's pretty late?  
  


**DR: **Mayb. But just for a sec. Unless C told you to be in bed by 9  
  


**DR: **In which case you're late, babe Z Z Z  
  


Max's mild chuckle hopelessly contradicts his deep frown and he sends a good ol’ middle finger emoji Daniel’s way first. Fuck him. 

**MV: **Okay then  
  


He doesn’t know what to expect or whether he’s supposed to be expecting anything at all; but what lurks in his gut can be nothing but anticipation, no matter how hideously ill-deserved. He quickly changes his shirt, the team gear feeling like a gaudy costume he wants to rid. Can he really lose anything he hasn’t exactly quite _had_? He grabs a protein bar from the mess resembling a demolition site that is in fact the contents of his suitcase. It’s still Daniel, after all. He steps out of the door, rips the bar wrapper open and munches a half of the nourishing meal on his way towards the elevators. Nothing wrong with hanging out with _still Daniel_. He throws the wrapper into the bin downstairs and heads outside with an unnamed cloud floating above him.

Daniel picks him up from another gleaming hotel lobby filled with the stale fumes of carpet cleaner, emerging from the elevator a couple of minutes after Max has parked himself next to a wall and tried to make himself as non-existent as possible. Daniel’s talkative and his eyes shine and his hands move and his hips sway to the indistinct melody of the buzz around them; Max can’t really tell what it is about him tonight, but he seems… exuberant. Lively. Irresistible. Maybe the increased time apart _has_ done its inevitable trick and Max has began to forget what it's really like to be around Daniel and how goddamn much he wants him.

Max touches his arm once they’re in the elevator alone, delicate as though somehow unconvinced, wanting to reassure himself of Daniel being real and tangible. Daniel knows better than to kiss him with the hotel being crammed with security cameras and the elevator thus bound to have one installed too, but he leans close to Max’s ear as though whispering something to him and plants a kiss and a breath on his earlobe. Max quivers when Daniel’s lips brush him, tailing the warm air caressing Max’s neck, and it takes everything to resist the urge to pin Daniel against the door of his room before it opens and then closes with a _clack_.

Max’s stomach then sinks rapidly, taking every single urge along, when he spots Michael from the corner of his eye.

Michael lounges on the grey sofa and gives him a small smile. His eyes are observant, mesmerizing and deep in the graceful circles of lights. He looks as though he has made himself perfectly at home a good while ago already, and Max swears it’s been a long time since he has been so unsure as for whether to punch someone, instantly vexed without any kind of real provocation at all. If it wasn’t for Daniel standing right next to him, his fist would’ve probably gone through that Bambi-eyed mug already. He’s half ashamed of the thought, half strangely intrigued by it. As if Michael had ever done anything to him, really; but he seems to embody triumph in an irritating way Max can’t quite bring himself to dissect further, and it freezes the very blood in him. Or maybe he should punch Daniel instead?

“Hi there”, Michael pipes. There’s the bizarre feeling of a sound barrier standing between the two of them. “Good to see ya.”

Max is so caught up in his own bitter-tasting confusion he barely hears a word at first. Then some of his understanding of basic human civility manages to push through the haze and he yields Michael a nod and a fairly cringe-worthy attempt at a smile.  
“Yeah, nice to see you.” Pleasant, automated lines from every PR video he has ever shot and every press pen he has ever stood in, nothing to sacrifice half a thought to, that should get him through this unexpected and frankly unwanted encounter. “I just wasn’t expecting it, Daniel didn't say you would be here.”  
“Yeah, well, didn’t wanna ruin the big jolly surprise”, Daniel shrugs, still rooted next to Max. His words are as casual as ever, but the voice carries a tenuous strain that goes unidentified by Max. Daniel hasn’t moved, and him speaking up makes Max blatantly aware of his closeness. He’s like an itch hovering just above Max’s skin instead of squirming inside it, impossible to do anything about.

“But, y' know- we actually _were_ kind of wondering if you’d like to join us, like I asked you earlier.”

Max blinks. He blinks again. He knows he must come across as an utter dimwit for looking like a bewildered goldfish and realizing what’s going on just as quickly as said goldfish - as in not getting it at all - or getting it but nothing really sinking in - but can’t help it whatsoever. He opts for the least troublesome thing he can think of saying to try and make it sound like he's completely oblivious to where Daniel's going with it and hasn't in fact spent way too much time conjuring scenarios uncannily resembling the one taking place.  
“What? For beers?”

Daniel chuckles quietly and puts a tender touch on the small of his back, so weightless Max almost thinks it a mere trick of his own mind and the fabric of his shirt combined. Michael’s eyes still measure him keenly, a subtle smile persistently arching his lip. Shock and chance wishfulness amalgamate inside Max and melt through him in one berserk wave, leaving him filled with electricity. This can’t really be happening, can it? They’re not- They can _not_ be seriously suggesting- Why the hell would they be?  
“For example beers, yeah." Daniel is leaning closer, apparently, Max can tell from the way his breath suddenly reaches his cheek when he speaks and makes the skin of his neck explode in gooseflesh, _fuck_. “We'll stick to downing a couple of those if that's all you'd like to do with us.”

Max glances at Daniel. His head feels unbearably heavy despite it seeming completely empty from any distinguishable thoughts. Daniel is so close now Max can almost taste the air that moves in and out of him - recall the way it’s always tasted on his tongue and every single time he has tasted Daniel by just inhaling it, sharing the zephyr.

Mindless trust in the senselessness of it all seizes him. He doesn’t say anything; Daniel most likely knows already. Daniel has most likely known all along.

Max can hear Michael drawing a sharp breath as a distant echo in the back of his mind when he lifts a hand to cup Daniel’s jaw and leans in for a kiss. Daniel lets half a sigh escape against Max’s lips, then catches up with him; Max feels lithe fingers on the back of his neck, and he wastes no time opening up to Daniel with a lavish breath out. _Michael’s watching_ bangs inside his skull. It sends tremors down his arms as the kiss grows frenzied, right to his fingertips; yet at the same time it makes him oddly resolute, and he eventually forces himself away from Daniel to look him in the eye, searching for guidance. They’re both breathing roughly, Daniel aims and shoots sparks right through Max’s chest with his stare.

“D' you wanna- go sit with Michael for a moment?” Daniel quips and gestures curtly towards the sofa with his head. Max turns to look at Michael again; he is still lounging against the backrest like it’s nothing, but his lips are now parted and his eyes have darkened into something that seems to be able to consume Max to the wick.

It’s as if Max was descending into a trance and it makes his legs feel light as he sashays towards Michael. Michael straightens himself an inkling, tensing like a wild cat that’s just spotted prey, stare just as earnest and sharp. Max feels such a mixture of everything looking at him - the pent-up envy and grudge, the fascination and raw want, the needs to hold, hurt and worship, it all comes together and explodes into the need to fully sink into the reverie-like moment for as long as it lasts.

Michael shifts, clearly prepared for Max perhaps sitting next to him and feeling the situation up first like any sensible person. But Max isn’t built for accepting a challenge and not showing how far he’s capable of going straight away. He enjoys the sight of Michael’s eyes widening with bafflement beyond words when he sits atop his thigh and wedges one leg between his, not bothering with unneeded finesse, and Michael barely manages to breathe “whoa” before Max puts a grip on his hair and tilts his head back. He feels so heady with such power-! And plunging into Michael’s eyes is so much like plunging into Daniel’s he almost forgets the vitriol guiding his moves as a sly undertow in his blood flow.

“Yeah, I think I can sit with him for a moment”, Max agrees before bowing to kiss Michael - just brushing his lips with his own first before slamming their mouths together with vigour. Michael’s yelp of surprise gets muffled and lost into Max’s throat. It _is_ different from kissing Daniel, Michael's arches softer and lips narrower yet touch none the less intent. It's inevitable to compare, and now Max thinks of how Daniel is watching _them_ \- whether he likes where Max takes it, whether he would want Max to pull his hair like he’s pulling Michael’s now. He soars with abrupt self-satisfaction that bleeds into his doings, signs Michael’s lower lip a small bite when he retreats and leaves him looking spellbound in a way that makes him want to grab Michael again and bite a trail down his jugular vein next.  
“I was told you’re a handful”, Michael murmurs, audacious hands roaming up and down Max’s thighs and slipping onto his lower back. “But you seem to be a pretty good mouthful too.”

_Christ_, he’s just as fucking bad as Daniel! Yet Max can’t help enjoying the recognition to the fullest, finding pleasure in proving Michael what exactly he is worth. Daniel’s light laugh from somewhere behind him only serves to boost his inexplicable high. Daniel’s there, Daniel sees, Daniel has- no, they have _both_ wanted him here, to hell with whatever their ultimate reasons may be.  
“Glad you’re enjoying it.”

Max can’t help wanting, Michael’s so beautiful like that - black eyes wide and face flushing with surfacing lust, the laid-back, cheerful aura changing into something far more volatile. Max loosens his hold of Michael’s hair ever so slightly and lands his right hand on the backrest, next to Michael’s shoulder.  
“I’m sure Daniel shares a lot of things with you”, he continues when he bucks his hips and grinds slowly against Michael’s thigh, fingers flexing in his hair. Michael’s firm grip guides him in a natural-feeling flow, encourages him to press his half-hard crotch tighter down. Max bites back a downright whimper, then half startles when he feels Daniel’s hand on the back of his neck, coaxing him to look up. Fuck, he has barely ever felt as much on show as he does now: and he’s followed by millions of pairs of eyes every race weekend, after all.  
“Can't say I haven't”, Daniel replies on behalf of Michael, straightforward. There doesn’t seem to be an ounce of shame in him; and Max finds himself thinking there’s really no need for it either. “I dunno if it sounds stupid, but I’d kinda want to share this too. If you’re up for it.”

Max leans back into Daniel’s touch without question and cranes his neck. Daniel hunches to kiss him again and shifts, Max can feel his hand sliding down his back; Michael’s fingers are working Max’s jeans open, apparently, somehow, and Max lets it all happen to him. It’s a dizzying feeling, being reduced to mere _sensation_ throughout.

“He seems up for it”, Michael points out from somewhere in front of Max. Max’s body moves like on its own accord, he tries to rut against Michael’s thighs, hands, anything, but the touches flicker and keep escaping him. He whines into Daniel’s mouth with the mounting frustration, without thinking anything - then he whines again when he feels Michael clutching his waist and stretching to brush his neck with his lips. Max’s hand roams down Daniel’s side, Daniel’s breath hitches and dies on Max’s lips when he gives Daniel’s crotch a couple of rough strokes of his palm, wrist in an uncomfortable angle but the heat of Daniel overriding all.  
“_Fuck_”, Daniel growls, breaking the kiss with it. Max uses the opportunity to actually see what he’s doing to fiddle Daniel’s trouser button open with rushed fingers. Michael’s lips inevitably leave his neck at the interruption; Max catches himself desperately wanting to break in two, getting Daniel out of the goddamned jeans and sinking back into Michael’s warmth simultaneously. But-

“I would like you to kiss Michael”, Max whispers when he looks up at Daniel again, thumb repeatedly tracing the outline of his erection through the fabrics it stretches. “I have imagined what it looks like but I want to see it.”

Daniel’s mouth gapes with unveiled marvel - admiration blending with desire, and Max relents to him more and more with every passing second, to him and Michael alike. Michael grins and wiggles his eyebrows at Daniel from the depths of the couch, looking absolutely asinine; it pains yet amuses Max, the level of quirky intimacy they are on, something layered inside what he and Daniel have been as well. Daniel docks next to Michael and Max gets back on his feet as he pulls Michael in with comfort that speaks volumes about it being routine. It’s like watching Narcissus bowing closer to and touching his own reflection on the surface of a pond, and Max can’t deny they are an almost otherworldly sight like that. Both clearly aroused - stubble scrapes against stubble - bronze sculpts bronze where Daniel’s palm meets Michael’s arm and Michael’s lands on Daniel’s neck.

Max has seldom felt so wholly torn. It’s been a completely different matter, picturing Daniel under Michael’s touch versus suddenly seeing it it right before his eyes, and jealousy and possessiveness tear at his throat. But it’s tantalizing all the more, Michael’s tongue crashing against Daniel’s and their chests gravitating towards each other, two suns disappearing into each other’s embrace. There’s an indistinct rush of thrill, curiosity as well as Max’s trademark doggedness.

He hadn't exactly pictured ever kneeling before Michael, God forbid; but that’s exactly where he winds up, on his knees, opening Michael’s legs to fit himself between them. Strange-sounding thoughts such as _I wonder if he tastes at all like Daniel_ zigzag across his scattered brain. It’s so different from the confident plunge into a carefree after-gym threesome he has replayed in his head like a steamy porno as a plan of action, and after having gotten used to Daniel it’s an unexpectedly forceful feeling of newness he encounters, making him both enthusiastic and tentative at the same time. But there’s no real hesitation in him - no, he takes pride in the way Michael spreads even wider for him in a generous invitation despite being immersed into kissing Daniel, inevitably bumping their knees together.

“I think he’s going to go down on me”, Michael murmurs into Daniel’s breath and elicits a hushed laugh out of them both. Max hums to himself, nuzzling the insides of Michael’s thighs until he reaches the front of his trousers. He opens Michael’s zipper and mouths lavishly at his cock through his boxers, putting the best of his undiscovered driver-slash-actor-slash-porn star skills on display when he combines the deed with generously rubbing Michael’s balls. He partly thinks he’s doing this for Daniel, really, as much as himself (as if blowing Michael shouldn’t be primarily about, well, _Michael_). But he’s undeniably aroused beyond comprehension as well already, driven by pure want now above anything else, save for perhaps his own ego.  
“He’s real good at that”, Daniel acclaims and glances at Max almost affectionately. “You’re gonna find out he’s a real fucking talent.”  
“I heard he’s a pretty good driver too”, Michael kids again and makes Max chortle as he gets to digging Michael’s erection out of his underwear. He’s kindly aided by Michael himself as he tries to tug his jeans out of the way with one clumsy hand and finally lifts his hips with an impatient growl.

Michael is still sloppily kissing Daniel and his left hand roams lower, sloping down Daniel’s stomach and drawing a grunt out of him once he cups his erection through the fly. It’s a familiar noise, Max has had that exact grunt in his mouth many times too, the zest of it and the need behind it. It’s still an ambivalent thought yet also serves to boost his decisiveness; he braces himself against Michael’s thighs and gives the shaft a bold lick, unhurried and smooth from the base to the peak.  
“_Jesus_”, Michael groans and is forced to break the kiss to look down at Max. The reaction is to Max as sweet-feeling as Michael himself; he catches Michael’s eyes and smirks lewdly before repeating the stunt, this time wrapping his lips around the tip once he’s reached it. Michael's head falls on Daniel's shoulder and his hips twitch restlessly, and Max leans down to glue him more firmly to the sofa.

“I’m fucking jealous”, Daniel mutters somewhere above Max and makes him smile again, as much as his mouth gradually filling with cock allows. Max bobs his head and lets his tongue flex and work - Michael’s thick and velvety, God, he feels _gorgeous_ to suck at, grazing Max’s palate wetly, with ease. Max retreats, a viscous string of saliva left hanging grotesquely between his lower lip and Michael's tip. He’s so turned on it makes him ache for touch in a primal way, palming himself through the opening on his shorts while tending to Michael, rock hard and his own gluey boxers smearing his unwieldy hand.

“Max can do a lot with his mouth”, Daniel croons breathlessly, Michael’s hand moving fervently deep inside his jeans. “We should take this to bed soon, I - fuck - I’d love to share what it’s like when he eats you out.”  
“Fuck- _shit_” is Michael’s eloquent, undoubtedly thought-through response, at least the only one he’s capable of giving with Max mouthing half of his length again at the same time. All the praise does things to Max, lifts him, sates him, makes him want to give it everything he’s got now with the same single-minded ambition he's applied to every aspect of his driving career. His moves are slow, he isn’t even trying to suck Michael off yet. He arches down until Michael’s tip touches the back of the pit of his mouth - vacillating on the edge of triggering his gag reflex but steering clear of it like a pro -, hums leisurely once more and makes Michael wail with it before raising his head.

“Yep, we could take this to bed”, Max agrees, half to himself and almost conversational, sends a shudder up Michael’s legs and spine with a swift lick of his tongue. Daniel reaches to brush his hair (funny, how a gesture like that can seem so ill-fitting to what’s otherwise a highly pornographic scene despite it being something Max longs to feel), then slides his hand to the back of Max’s neck and urges him to look up once more.  
“Do you want to taste?” Max asks with mock-innocence, a cunning grin splitting his mouth. Daniel lights with awe again and Max feels like he’s never going to be able to get enough of that look, the naked adoration and lust displaying themselves on Daniel’s face and fueling Max's bravado all the more.  
“Yeah, c’ mere”, Daniel says before bending down himself and parting Max’s lips with his own, the kiss loud and slick with their tongues and Michael’s pre. Max’s hand still roves Michael’s thigh while the other rises to meet Daniel’s neck, fingers restlessly combing the hair way too short to be pulled on his temple.  
“This is the kinkiest thing ever”, Michael cajoles, voice thickened and hoarse. His hand keeps brushing Max’s as he tries to replace the touch of Max’s mouth with that of his own palm. "I’m gonna fucking bust it just watching."

Daniel rewards Max with a conclusive nip to his lower lip before they part and Max gets up, head reeling with a heavenly lack of oxygen. It’s a debauched scene laid before him, Michael’s flushed cock sticking out of his trousers obscenely and Daniel with his fly open, hard-on evident and the front of his boxers clearly damp.  
“You’ve pretty much gotten Michael out of his clothes already”, Daniel grins as he levers himself up and gives Max’s back an idle stroke. “Knew you’d be a bloody natural.”  
“I have thought about it”, Max admits - a matter-of-fact, short sentence that contains a lot more than the words let on. “But it’s even better like this.”

They practically stumble into the bedroom. Michael rips his shirt and slacks off en route, tosses them carelessly on the floor and sits on the edge of the bed like in wait for what’s to come before Daniel ushers him backwards. He leans against the pillows, exquisitely spreading across the bed. He is of slightly broader build than Daniel, and his outlines are drawn with a softer brush and mellow arches to contrast Daniel’s more jagged edges and body of skin and bone and steel. They’re both works of art in their own right, and Max feels like the luckiest man in existence as he watches Daniel joining Michael on the bed and pinning him down with a fierce kiss. For a passing second Max feels almost out of place once more, not wanting to shatter the fantasy-resembling moment by accident by lodging himself into it; but Daniel bluntly shatters it himself, turns to Max and gestures at him, inviting him to intrude.  
“C’ mere, babe.”

Daniel shifts back as Max climbs onto the bed, clearly wanting him to fill the space between himself and Michael. Max stops to kiss him briefly while they’re both still on their knees, wanton, feverish fingers raking Daniel’s curls as if trying to absorb the feel of them. He then turns his attention back to Michael to notice he’s stroking himself in a slow, uneven rhythm, hunger on his parted lips. The desire in Max twirls with - shock? surprise? pride? He has never imagined anyone jerking off to him and Daniel as though they served as adult entertainment together, but it makes him feel immodest, _majestic_ in a way that seems to make no sense at all.  
“I want him to know just how fucking good you are, too”, Daniel whispers, hands running wildly all over Max, pressing kisses to his shoulder and neck. “If you feel like showing.”  
“You need to turn around”, Max says to Michael, emboldened by his uninhibited response to them. “On your hands and knees.”

Michael rolls over effortlessly with a _fuck, yes_ Max takes as a high compliment, and Max grabs his arse tightly as soon as he’s in position. Michael is glorious, muscles carved with a sharp blade, by skilled hands; wide back curving before Max, cock hanging heavy right below his stomach. Daniel jostles behind Max, fishing the lube from under the mattress where they’ve learned to keep it. It makes Max’s heart hammer with inexplicable excitement - of course they’ve fucked and fingered and done a plethora of things that have required lube, but it still feels new all of a sudden, with Michael there with them. Max bends closer to Michael, parts his legs for Daniel at the same time and groans when he feels a determined hand tracing a path from the curve of his arse to between his thighs. If only he could touch himself; but he does need both hands for steadying Michael and spreading him open. Oh, _woe_.

Max isn’t one to talk much during sex and every praise he can think of saying sounds not far from ridiculous even in his own head. He gets down to honest toil instead, licking a slow, slick stripe up Michael's thigh, tongue following the cleft of Michael’s arse like worshiping every inch of it. He feels deliciously torn, Daniel teasing his balls and Michael on the other hand deserving his full attention, and should it be a dream, he’d rather he never woke up from it. Michael whines loudly and spreads his legs without Max asking, bends forward and rests his weight on his forearms, eager to allow Max as much access as possible. Max ducks down to reach Michael’s balls with the tip of his tongue - and suddenly Daniel’s fingertips slide from between his thighs to between his cheeks and he inhales sharply in surprise.

“Go on, don’t mind me”, Daniel murmurs. Max can imagine the wide smile on his face without seeing it at all, it drips from Daniel's cadence and makes Max tingle. “Fuck, this looks so hot. I wonder if Michael will wanna fuck your mouth.”  
“We’ll see about that”, Max states diplomatically before Michael can voice an opinion and gets to working Michael in earnest now, tongue repeatedly dipping into him, a tad deeper each time. It’s insane how powerful it makes him feel, to be able to extract from Michael the guttural sounds he makes, the curses he breathes. Max licks right from Michael’s balls to his hole, spits and stiffens his tongue. It's the filthiest, most sublime sight, Michael's arse shining with Max's spit and fucked by Max's mouth.  
“Fuck- yes”, Michael pants, incoherent and out of breath, the flow of curses infinite. Max pushes his rear back to meet the fingers teasing him like his tongue is teasing Michael - as far back as he can without losing Michael for a second, _shit_, he’s going to break in half any minute now. Daniel adds to it by bringing two fingertips to his hole then, slick with lube, and Max would cry out and plead if he wasn’t so busy doing something even more pleasurable with certain parts of him direly needed for speaking.

“I’m so going to wanna fuck that mouth”, Michael gasps again, fumbling to grab Max’s hair and keep his head in place. Daniel pushes the digits inside Max right at that moment and makes Max moan involuntarily right into Michael before his neck instinctively arching and tongue slipping out. He jolts with the intrusion, writhes but can’t move with Michael’s hand on his head and Daniel holding his hips - his body struggles with trying to keep him breathing and it’s almost impossible for Max to keep the composition together when all he wants is - in all possible modesty - to suck Michael’s cock and get fucked by Daniel all at the same time. Daniel's hand moves lazily, shoving him straight to the verge of begging.  
“Michael”, Max pants, instinctively pushing his hips back again to meet Daniel’s thrusts. “On your back. I want to-”

Michael does as told, crashes onto his back. Max's inherent need to show off blazes with all the gasoline poured over it already and he claims all of Michael straight away - slow, _slow_ but undisputed, Michael fills every last pit of him and cries out loudly when Max’s lips touch the base and the tip hits Max’s throat. Michael's disjointed stream of words wrecks into a collection of hitched half-breaths, Max’s lips stretching obscenely around the girthy shaft of his cock. Max's chin is drenched, his mouth and jaw feel slightly stiff but he couldn't care less about the soreness; he sighs with pleasure and Michael rocks with the vibrating sensation, hips restlessly fighting against the clear will to thrust. Max lifts his head, makes sure his tongue amply trails the whole length, moves down. Daniel keeps nudging his hole, unhurried flickers in-out. Max’s head feels dizzy, as if he constantly kept forgetting to breathe, and his crotch is about to explode.

“Max, d’ you-” Daniel starts and then dips one fingertip inside him again as though by happy accident, making him hiss at the slick feeling. “D' you think y’ could handle us both at the same time?”

Max glances over his shoulder, heaving with his own weighty breaths and Michael's beneath him. Daniel’s eyes are blown wide and hopeful, so black in the dimness it makes Max feel like he’d fall into the endlessness of them if he kept staring long enough. Daniel is clearly orchestrating the whole fucking thing, has probably been from the first moment the idea has crossed his mind. Max does wonder for a short moment how Daniel and Michael have come to reach the eventual agreement over this and then decides it's actually pretty pointless to mull over it at this stage, with Michael in front of him and Daniel behind, both willing to make him come undone.  
“Yeah, if you start slow.“ Should he prove to be unable to handle it in the end, he’d still die the happiest man that ever lived, no doubt. “I want to enjoy both of you for a while before I choke to death.”  
“I bloody love ya”, Daniel laughs - it’s a bit tinted with over-excitement, perhaps, his nerves and blinding heat clashing. Max feels the blunt tip of Daniel’s cock gliding against the curvature of his arse and bucks back almost instinctively. Michael chuckles witlessly and gets to his knees, and Max follows him on a whim, taking a hold of his sides and kissing him roughly before licking and biting his way down his neck and chest.

“Fuck, Dan, you weren’t lying about his mouth”, Michael lauds. Daniel snorts and stretches his arm to guide Michael into a brief, unbalanced kiss as well right above Max, leaving Max no room to move but on the other hand giving him a perfect excuse to rut against Daniel’s cock while trying to lick his way to Michael’s the best he can because he can’t possibly do anything else, what with him being tightly lodged in the middle. Not that he’d ever complain.  
“Glad you two found each other now”, Daniel banters once they part, idly fondling Max’s crack at the same. “Knew you’d be good together.”  
“Fuck me already”, Max interrupts almost without realizing it himself, bending down without a say-so, guided by what feels like bare animalism. “I want this.”  
“You first”, Michael says to Daniel, thumb caressing Max’s cheek. Max turns his head to be able to suck on it, spent tongue drawing broad circles around the digit. “You go first, I’ll join.”

Daniel takes a tight hold of Max’s hip to steady him. Max is sucking on Michael’s fingers, tending to them with uttermost generosity, but is forced to tilt his head down when Daniel first pierces him, just the tip beckoning his body to open wide and be taken. Michael grunts in sync with the high-pitched _fuck!_ Max spits out as if Daniel had penetrated both of them with the same move, unabashedly stroking his own cock. Daniel pauses - not that it's tedious, Max could well bear anything, it’s just about the deliciousness of excessive torture Max knows Daniel likes, to both Max's benefit and disadvantage.  
“Yes, Daniel-” Max keens still, despite having lost all air from his lungs. “Please.”  
“What was that?” Daniel smirks and glimpses at Michael; Michael brushes Max’s cheek with his cock, defiling his face and making it feel like an honour. Daniel moves just a tad but nowhere near enough, and the torment of being so close to be filled yet being kept right on the edge makes Max mewl with frustration.  
“Daniel- I swear I-”

“Did _you_ catch it, Michael?” Daniel asks without a care in the world - the strain of staying still and not dive into Max straight away is evident in his voice, but he has apparently decided to make the most of having Max at his mercy, half-full half-empty. Max could weep with both despair and mindless glee, the thoughts of why in the name of hell he has ended up trying to have sex with two big-mouthed idiots fleeing him as soon as they emerge.  
“What did Max want?”  
“I reckon he'd like you to shag him”, Michael suggests chattily, just touching Max’s lips with his tip but taking it away before Max can gather the wits do anything about it. “And so do I, mate, this is the hottest goddamn thing I've ever seen.”  
“I know I am”, Daniel blurts and makes Michael snort.  
“_Please_-” Max prays and it collapses into a breathy cry when Daniel finally decides to show some fucking clemency and steadily buries himself into Max’s heat. Max’s breathing erupts into a cacophony of gasps and desperate tries at inhales in between, and then the crown of Michael’s cock is on his lips again, like willing a gate to open.

“Fuck, Max, you're so good”, Daniel mutters and adds _shit, you’re tight_ to emphasize the following thrust. Max lifts his head again to meet Michael’s gaze and then his cock, glistening and darkened in his fist. He tries to think of something sexy to say but still can’t find anything, really, and settles for opening his mouth wide to use it for what it’s meant for at this point, sticks his tongue out.

“Atta boy”, Michael croons as he gently guides his tip to reunite with the willing cavity before him. It has never been like this for Max - he feels like a _toy_ yet elated with how wanted he is, and Michael’s words only add to that, coming across as almost debasing yet feeling like the highest of praises at the same time. Daniel keeps moving slow, and Michael slides his cock into Max’s cheek, and Max has never felt so incredibly gorged, simply overflowing with all he’s reduced to and made to feel. The corners of his eyes feel prickly with stray but obstinate tears, spurred by the mere abundance of _everything_.  
“Jesus, Michael”, Daniel bemoans, clearly amused but delightfully short-winded. “I've never said _that_ to him.”  
“You should, he’s worth it”, Michael answers, cupping Max’s jaw to keep his head leveled. Max hollows his cheeks and adjusts to Michael’s slow movements to accept as much of the length as he physically can. Michael lodges his thumb into the corner of Max’s mouth and spreads it; it throbs with a burn already but Max still couldn't give a toss, he wants everything he’s being taken to pieces with. He closes his eyes and lets out an appreciative hum (pretty much the only thing he can do to show he wants them both to fuck him, hard to talk with it seeming like Michael’s cock fills him to the gullet).

Daniel goes again and Michael follows soon after, it's nothing but uncoordinated and halting at first but they find harmony once they seem to be certain that Max isn't going to face an untimely death by dick. The room echoes with the noises they make, the air itself twirling thickening and licentious on their lips. Max practically forgets to worry about his gag reflex with how sweetly Daniel stretches him and with how _dirty_ it feels when Michael puts a hand on the back of his head, hips snapping and making Max buoy to the rhythm.  
“Shit”, Michael swears again, eyes closed now and neck an upward curve, star-gazing through closed eyelids. “I wanna- wanna come into your mouth.”  
“He likes that”, Daniel grunts, like an excerpt from Banging Max Verstappen 101. Max mewls all he manages in response - right now he certainly doesn't have the brains to get to the bottom of why Daniel talking like he's not even _present_ rouses him so absurdly much, but it makes him want to moan, scream, yield to anything they feel like subjecting him to. “Fuck, I can’t- It’s like watching porn and fucking at the same time.”

Max feels like he’s knocking on the doors of delirium - not being able to speak, not being able to move as he pleases, the only option being to succumb to it. He embraces it with all of his being; Daniel takes, Michael takes, Max is there for it and it’s better than anything his imagination could ever offer him.  
“I’m not- I’m gonna-” Michael chokes, his thrusts still short but picking up tempo. Max soars with the feeling of Michael's cock tightening in his mouth already and then Daniel coils his fingers around his length, making him groan involuntarily, the sound resonating belligerently up Michael’s body.  
“Fuck, Max, you’re amazing”, Daniel murmurs, jerking Max off with hasty pulls and making him wail, the sound obtuse with Max's mouth being very much occupied. Max is trying to work his hardest at the same time, eager to make Michael spill all over his tongue.

Michael cries out and his fingers flex, fisting into a ball in Max’s short hair, hot gushes splashing into Max’s mouth and dripping onto the bedcovers. Max guzzles all he can but can’t help gagging any longer, and he drools a mixture of saliva and Michael’s come all over his chin when Michael pulls out, cheeks and jaw coated with it. He feels like he’s close to collapsing, Daniel working him fast and hot, and from the extremities of his waving vision he can still make out Michael slowly stroking his softening cock to them. He must be _watching_ \- viewing him and Daniel like a fucking cam show -

and that does it for Max. He spills over Daniel’s fingers and the sheets with curt, ragged gasps, taking Daniel with him when the orgasm seizes his muscles and then lets go of him. Daniel retreats limply after a moment, leaving Max feeling like he's nothing but dripping wetness and spent flesh all over. Max balances on all fours for one lone moment of not being able to fully fall apart before he sinks onto the bed, feeling so weighty and languid he weakly thinks he could as well sink straight through it, and through the floor and ground, everything, fall for an eternity. He feels Michael jostling somewhere above him and Daniel behind him but can’t seem to lift his head or even half-open his eyes to see what they’re doing. It's a peculiarly solitary feeling that undulates in him for the instant, hollow after an overflow.

“Come here”, says Michael then from above his head, cadence softness and honey so much it almost puzzles Max with how tame it feels, and then Max feels a placid hand on his temple. “Can you- lift your head a tiny bit?”  
"I don't think so", Max mumbles, eyelids fluttering heavily and mouth barely capable of forging sounds. His neck feels so wooden it flashes to him whether it'll recover in time for their next driving session, and had he any lungs left for anything involving air, he would laugh at the thought. He feels a palm on his waist, Daniel's agile weight sinking behind his back. "Not at this moment."  
"M' kay, you stay there", Michael complies and rakes his fingertips through Max's hair. "Your neck's probably going to feel like shit after a while, we'll have to take care of that."

Daniel's chest presses into Max's back and his lips to the nape of Max's neck.  
"Yeah, I wouldn't want the race to go to shit for you because you blew Michael, after all", he hums, draping his arm tighter around Max and necklacing him with drowsy pecks. Max smiles and puffs out whatever little snort he can; Michael snickers lightly before shifting closer, and Max can feel the two surrounding him, Michael's forearm coming to rest right next to Daniel's.

"Y' good, Max?" Daniel whispers into his ear and pecks the skin right behind it.  
"Yeah, good", Max croaks from somewhere in the space and time between passing out and inexplicably welling up. He would like to say more - tons, myriads of things, but his tongue is led and mouth used up and he can only lament the lack of their telepathic abilities.  
"I think you were pretty damn marvelous", Daniel grins and lifts his head to look at Michael. "We're a right mess, aren't we."  
"I'll give his neck a rub after shower so it doesn't get too bad", Michael answers over Max, idly caressing his hip with the hand he isn't propping himself up with. Max feels like his body would shiver under the touch if it only had the energy to do so, and the mere thought of actually getting up and dragging his mortal coil into the bathroom seems more than exhausting. _Why_ couldn't they just drift asleep in a tangled pile of limbs laced with sweat, come and spit-

or perhaps not. Sigh.

"Can I-?" Michael starts then, snapping Max out of his relatively sticky thoughts. It does sound mildly off until Max senses Daniel's chin bobbing against his shoulder when he nods and simply goes _yeah, of course_.

Considering what they have just finished doing, anyone asking for any kind of permission for anything seems almost overly chaste. But as soon as Michael places a kiss on his forehead, and then his cheek, Max suddenly becomes very aware of the likely reasons; it's ridiculous how coy and intimate the gesture feels after- well, frankly put, Max having spent a good amount of time with his face buried either between Michael's legs or in his rear. How something that small-scale can reel him to such extent after their highly lascivious escapade is far, far beyond Max's drained mind. But it makes his core burst with an instantaneous glow nevertheless, and he finds himself flooding once again with it, surrendering to contentment between the two muscular, brown-eyed jackasses clasping him tightly despite the chaos they have made of themselves and the poor king-size bed.

**Author's Note:**

> (Tutorials for the [messages](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722) and [emojis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6580324/chapters/15055576), s'il vous plaît!)


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